


The Dragon and His Mother

by HufflepuffMommy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffMommy/pseuds/HufflepuffMommy
Summary: Based on the fairytale: https://fairytalez.com/the-devil-and-his-grandmother/The trio find themselves trapped at Malfoy Manor, but an unlikely accomplice helps them escape. Together, the four of them figure out how to get the last of the Horcruxes and end the war once and for all.





	The Dragon and His Mother

When Draco Malfoy was a child, he had many wishes. 

He wished to be top of his class.  
He wished to be the star Quidditch Player on the Slytherin Team.   
He wished for the prettiest girls to go out with him.  
He wished Potter would have befriended him during his first year.   
He wished his father wasn’t a Death Eater.   
He wished he wasn’t forced to get the Dark Mark.   
He wished, oh how he wished, he took Dumbledore’s offer and gotten him and his mother the fuck out of there. 

But now….

Draco wished he could be anywhere else but here.   
Anywhere but the Manor, which was now Death Eater central and home to Voldemort.  
He wished things would go back to normal; before fifth year, where all he cared about was quidditch and grades and girls.   
He wished Potter, Weasley, and Granger hadn’t gotten caught by Snatchers and taken to his home.   
He wished his aunt would stop torturing Granger on the drawing-room floor.  
He wished he could take his eyes off the scene before him, but he couldn’t, instead, his eyes narrowed in on the blood pooling from Granger’s arm and onto the tile beneath her.   
He wished, when Potter and Weasley had somehow escaped the confines of the dungeon, that they would get away; end this whole war and be done with it all. 

But that’s the thing about wishes: They rarely come true. 

He barely registered what was happening when Potter knocked into him and ripped his own wand from his hand.

He barely registered when Dobby came, ready to whisk the Golden Trio away, before his crazy Aunt Bellatrix threw her cursed dagger, hitting him square in the chest. 

“No! Dobby!” Potter screamed as the elf dropped to the floor by his feet, bringing Draco out of his trance. 

There was a scuffle and the three prisoners were carted off to the dungeons. 

“I believe this is yours,” Lucius drawled, handing his wand back to him with a sneer. 

Draco nodded, taking the wand from his father's grip. 

Lucius shook his head at him. “I’m disappointed in you, son.” 

“We need to call The Dark Lord,” one of the Snatchers said, lifting his sleeve where his Dark Mark was hidden. 

“NO!” screeched Bellatrix, her eyes frantically looking around the room as she pointed her wand at everyone threateningly. “No one calls him except me! We need to find out what else they took from my vault! Bring me the Mudblood again! I’ll make her talk—” 

“I think,” Narcissa interjected. “That we should let them think about the situation they are in before we interrogate them some more. Let’s clean up this mess,” she said, indicating to the broken chandelier on the floor. “Get some food, and then we can reconvene and figure out what to do.”

“As long as no one calls him!” Bellatrix bellowed, her eyes wildly searching about. 

“No one will, dear sister,” Narcissa said, steering the frantic witch away. 

Draco followed closely behind his mother, not wanting to leave her alone with his deranged aunt for too long, with his father in his wake, leaving the mess to be cleaned up by one of the Snatchers. 

* * *

Hermione sat in a dark and dingy cell, leaning against the wall for support, cradling her mutilated arm. It hurt like hell; a burning sensation was running through her entire limb and she winced every time she moved it. 

She couldn’t tell how long they had been down there, at least a few hours now, and she could feel the tendrils of unconsciousness starting to pull her down. 

She was so damn tired.

She barely registered that Ron was sitting next to her while Harry paced the small cell, the two arguing about what to do next. 

“We need to figure out how to get out of here,” Harry said. 

“And how do you think we’ll manage that?” Ron snapped. “We’ve no wands, Dobby’s dead, and he was our last chance of getting out of here.”

“What about... the mirror?” Hermione said tiredly, wincing as she shifted. 

Harry shook his head. “I can’t find it. I think I dropped somewhere up there when we were trying to escape,” he said, finally sitting against the wall on the other side of Hermione, letting out a defeated sigh. 

“We’re fucked,” he said, burying his face in his hands. 

“You don’t know that,” Hermione said wearily.

“Do _you_ have any ideas on how to get out of here?” he said, snapping at her, 

“Oi! Don’t yell at her!” Ron bellowed. “She just got tortured up there!” 

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked at Hermione. “Blimey, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, ‘Mione. Are you okay? How badly are you injured?”

Hermione gave a shrug and instinctively pressed her arm to her chest some more. 

“Let me take a look,” Harry said, reaching for her. 

She shook her head quickly. “No... It’s fine... Just hurts…. It’ll get better….” she reassured. 

Another defeated sigh escaped Harry’s lips as he rested his head against the cold stone of the dungeon. 

“Blimey I’m starving,” Ron said after a moment. 

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle as exhaustion surrounded her. 

“What are the chances they’ll feed us?” Ron wondered out loud.

“Slim to none,” Harry said with a shake of his head. 

The door to the dungeon opened and the three Gryffindors scrambled up and away from the cell’s door. Or at least, Hermione attempted too. Ron had to help pull her up into a standing position and she had to lean against the wall for support as the boys stood in front of her.

“You three are so fucking stupid,” the voice said as it descended the stairs. 

“Malfoy?” Harry said, squinting into the darkness. 

“Who the fuck do you think it is, Potter?” Draco drawled. “Father Christmas?” 

“What do _you_ want, Malfoy?” Ron said angrily.

“Well, I _was_ coming to rescue you, but I may just change my mind and go back upstairs to my nice, warm bed,” he said, walking up to the cell, his wand lit at the tip, illuminating just his face.

“Rescue us?” Harry asked skeptically. “Why?” 

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione noticed that he looked worn down, almost as much as they did. 

“Look, I want this war over with as much as you do. And that can’t very well happen when you’re locked up in my cellar.” 

The three prisoners looked at one another before Hermione finally spoke quietly. “What’s your plan?”

“Don’t tell me you trust him!” Ron hissed at her.

“He didn’t... tell them... who we were...” she reminded him breathlessly as the pain in her arm increased.

“Yes, and I also remember him just standing to the side while his aunt was torturing you!”

“Will you bloody keep your voices down,” Draco hissed, looking over his shoulder. “I _Stupefied_ the guards but that doesn’t mean someone else won’t come by to check on you. Now, do you want me to get you out of there or not?”

Ron narrowed his eyes at the blond, “Why should we trust you?” 

“You shouldn’t,” Draco said with a shrug. “But what other options do you have?”

Ron looked at Harry, who had been staring at Draco. Finally, he gave a nod. “Alright, what’s your plan Malfoy?”

Draco stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out something covered in a handkerchief. 

“What’s that?” Ron asked, walking forward to get a closer look. 

“A portkey,” Draco supplied, unwrapping the cloth, revealing a large, silver coin. 

“To where?” Harry asked, eyeing the coin. 

Draco shrugged. “To a secure location.”

“That’s not very specific—”

“Look, do you want Granger to get tortured again? Because that’s all my aunt has been wanting to do, until my Mother gave her a sleeping draught an hour ago.”

At the mention of her name, all eyes turned to Hermione, who was still leaning against the wall, looking extremely pale and sucking in raspy breaths. 

“Hermione? Are you okay?” Harry asked. 

Hermione lolled her head towards his voice and tried to nod. 

“Hermione?” Ron said, his voice cracking with worry. 

“I…” she started, then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and everything went dark. 

* * *

When Hermione started to regain consciousness, the first thing she noticed was how soft the ground was. 

Confused, her eyes fluttered open and she blinked a few times, taking in the scene around her. 

It took her a moment to realize she was in a bedroom, with the curtains drawn to keep out the sunlight. The ground she was laying on was actually a bed, with grey covers wrapped around her body. 

She winced as she tried to sit up, her head pounding and her stomach protesting at its emptiness. _Loudly._

“Harry? Ron?” she tried to call, but all that came out was a raspy whisper. 

Moving carefully, she gingerly moved her legs to the side of the bed and slid off the mattress. Taking a moment to make sure she wasn’t going to fall, she walked slowly towards the closed door. 

“Please let them be here, please let them be here,” she said to herself as she made her way out of the room and down a short hall.

She heard voices. Muttering, whispering voices. 

She also smelled…Coffee? 

Wonderful, glorious, _coffee_.

She followed the scent through a small living room and she noted that there was a plush sofa, a few arm chairs, and… were those bookshelves? 

Her stomach yelled at her to keep going, so with a grunt, she continued on through the house. 

She passed a set of stairs before finding another doorway, where the voices were still talking, though this time, she distinctly heard Harry and Ron. 

With a relieved sigh, she pushed open the door and saw her boys sitting at a small table, talking amongst themselves, and drinking something strong and black in a pair of mugs

“Mione!” Harry said, jumping up, followed by Ron. “What are you doing up? Why didn’t you call for us?” 

“I tried,” Hermione said, her voice cracking from either lack of use or her screaming from being tortured, she wasn’t sure. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I tried.” She looked around the kitchen. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Here, sit, we’ll explain,” Harry said, pulling out a chair for her. Ron helped her walk over while Harry went towards an icebox. 

“Hungry?” he asked her.

“Starving,” she admitted. 

He pulled out the fixings for a sandwich and began putting it together while Ron poured her a cup of coffee. 

“Bless you, Ron,” she said, as she wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. 

She took a tentative sip and let the caffeine course through her body. She closed her eyes and hummed happily. The warmth helped soothe her aching throat, as well.

Harry set the sandwich in front of her and she began to eat without pause. 

“Slow down, ‘Mione,” Harry said, chuckling. “You’re eating like Ron.” 

“Hey!” the redhead said indignantly. 

Harry shrugged, “It’s true.” 

“So, tell me what happened?” Hermione said, as she took another bite, this time taking her time while chewing. 

“What do you remember?” Harry asked. 

“I remember… the cell. And… Malfoy! He said he was coming to…to rescue us?” she asked, unsure if that was reality or a dream. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Malfoy came to get us out of there. Before we left though, you passed out. Scared the shit out of me, by the way,” he said, glaring at her good naturedly. He waved her off before she had a chance to speak. “Anyway, you passed out, Malfoy Apparated into the cell with us—something about setting off wards if it was unlocked—then we used the portkey he had and it sent us here.” 

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” she asked, looking around again. She went over to the small window above the sink, but the only thing she could see were trees. 

Ron grumbled. “No idea. Malfoy wouldn’t tell us.”

Hermione turned around and frowned. “Why not?” 

“He can’t. His mother is Secret Keeper. He only knows how to get here by portkey,” Harry explained.

“Okay…” Hermione said, going back to sitting in the chair. “So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to rest, get you better, and get food in our system while we figure out how to get the last of the horcruxes,” Harry said. 

“That’s… smart,” Hermione said slowly with a nod. Then she smirked, “Who’s idea was it?”

“Malfoy’s,” Harry muttered. 

Hermione’s brows raised in surprise. “Really? Where is he now?”

Ron shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

“He left after he helped fix you up,” Harry added, nodding towards her arm. 

For the first time since she woke, Hermione remembered her injured arm. She pushed the sleeve of her jumper up and noticed that her arm was bandaged from her wrist to right before the juncture of her elbow. 

“He did this?” she asked. 

“Well, it was a group effort,” Harry said. 

Hermione frowned again. “Why?”

“Well,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “After we landed here, our first priority was to see what happened to you. You were burning up with a fever and you were still clutching your arm. When we tried to take a look at it, you started screaming and thrashing about. It took both Ron and I to hold you down, while Malfoy fixed up your arm.”

Hermione bit her lip and blushed in embarrassment, “Oh...”

“He’s actually been—Merlin help me for saying this—but he’s been helpful. He stops by every other day to check up on us and make sure we have what we need.” 

Ron muttered something under his breath, which was pointedly ignored by Harry.

“Every other day?” Hermione asked in surprise. “How long have I been out?”

“About five days—” Harry started. 

“Five?!” she shook her head in disbelief. “So Malfoy’s what? A spy for the Order or something?” She queried, pulling her coffee towards her once more.

Harry shook his head, “Not the Order. I think he’s just doing whatever he can to survive at this point.”

“I see,” she said, finishing up her coffee. “Well, now that I’ve eaten, I think I’m going to find a bathroom and shower.” 

Harry nodded, “Malfoy brought clothes… well, it’s all his old things, but it’s something. They should be in the dresser in the room you were in.” 

Hermione nodded, “Alright.”

Hermione’s mind whirled at all the new information as she went back to the bedroom and rummaged through the drawers, finding a pair of sweatpants and an old Falmouth Falcons jersey. 

Only once she was in the bathroom, with the shower on full blast as hot as she could handle, did she let the stress of everything come to the surface. Her tears mingled with the water cascading down her body and only once she was finished, did she finally wash away the blood and dirt, all the while trying to figure out the next steps to their horcrux hunting. 

* * *

Disappearing for a few hours every couple of days was easier than Draco thought it would be. His mother made excuses for him if anyone questioned his whereabouts, but for the most part, nobody really cared where he was; they were all too busy trying to find Potter and his friends again. 

By the time he had returned from the safe house, the sun had just started to rise. He crawled into bed and waited until he heard shouting from below, bellowing about how the prisoners had escaped. He played the part well, showing how shocked and angry he was that they were gone, and no one was the wiser. His mother eventually found him in his room, and even though she didn’t say it outright, she knew what he had done. She carefully placed a few more of those same large coins on his bed and told him to be careful. 

The first time he came back to the safe house, he was very nearly attacked by Weasley. Without a wand though, it was easy for Draco to subdue him. Potter explained that they were just on edge, seeing as how they didn’t know where they were and if this was an elaborate trap or not. The only reason why they were staying was because Granger was still unconscious. 

He told them, in no uncertain terms, that they would be unable to return if they left the protective confines of the safehouse. It would be best if they rested, ate, and figured out their next plan of action, instead of barreling through and flying by the seat of their pants, per usual Gryffindor style. 

The second time he visited, he noticed that Potter and Weasley, while the latter still glared at him, seemed more relaxed; food and sleep tended to help in those situations. They were worried though, seeing as how Granger was still out of it. 

He checked on her, making sure her vitals were good. He knew rudimentary healing magic since he had taken up studying Healer texts from the many books in his family’s massive library. It was his escape from the chaos and madness that was the Manor, and very rarely did any of the Death Eaters tend to wander in to his peaceful sanctuary. 

The wound his aunt inflicted on Granger still made his stomach churn. It took everything in him to not vomit upon seeing it the first time. He healed the deep cuts as best as he could and stopped the bleeding and infection, but he knew it would scar because of the cursed dagger Bellatrix had used. 

Once he assured Potter and Weasley that she would be fine, he left again. 

He listened in on meetings, making mental notes of where and what the Death Eaters were doing. His aunt was still raving about something in her vault and started to refuse to eat or drink anything from her sister, seeing as how Narcissa kept putting a calming drought in her sisters drinks. 

Draco actually looked forward to leaving the Manor for the safe house and was wondering when he should broach the subject to his mother about the two of them staying there until this whole thing blew over. 

When the Portkey landed him in the middle of the safe house living room for the third time, he heard a shriek and a thud from behind him. 

Turning quickly to the sound, he saw Granger sitting on the sofa, a book on the floor, and a hand to her chest, breathing heavy. 

Potter and Weasley came running down the stairs at the commotion.

Upon seeing Draco, Ron snarled. “What are _you_ doing back?”

Draco rolled his eyes “It’s my house, Weasley. Or did you forget? Because I could show you the door and you’d be out on your arse before you could say Quidditch.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” the hot-headed redhead threatened, walking toward the blond with his fists clenched. Potter grabbed him the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. “Ron, go chill out in the kitchen and get something to eat.”

“But—”

“Go!”

“Ugh, fine,” he turned his attention to Malfoy, “I don’t care if you _did_ save us. I still don’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Weasley,” Draco said in a bored tone whilst observing his cuticles. 

Once Ron was in the other room, Harry looked to Hermione, “You okay?”

She gave a meek nod in response. “Yeah. He just startled me is all,” she said, glancing at Malfoy. “Why _are_ you here?”

Draco gave a shrug and sat in one of the armchairs, “To check in.”

“Okay… but why?” she asked again, leaning over to pick up the dropped book. 

“Who else would bring you food or other provisions?” he asked rhetorically. 

“Oh,” she said. 

“I’m going to check on Ron,” Harry said. “Do you want anything to eat Hermione? Malfoy?”

With a shake of her head, and a decline from Draco, Harry left the two in the living room. 

“So, you finally woke up,” Draco commented. “How are you feeling?”

Confused by his apparent interest in her well-being, she frowned. “Aside from feeling drained all the time, I’m doing alright.” 

“Can I take a look at your arm?” he asked, getting up from the armchair and moving over to the sofa. 

“Why?” Hermione rasped, and instinctively clutched her arm to her chest. 

“To make sure it’s healing properly,” he stated, raising a brow.

Hermione remembered what Harry had told her about Malfoy fixing up her arm in the first place so with a small nod, she pulled up her sleeve and held out her arm towards him. 

Unwinding the bandage, Draco inspected the scarred tissue and pulled out his wand to do a few diagnostic tests. The sight of his wand seemed to have startled Granger though, as she gasped and moved slightly away from him.

“I just need to run some diagnostic tests,” he said calmly. 

She nodded again, blushing at her reaction, and held out her arm once more.

When the spells were cast, he pursed his lips at the results. “It seems there’s still some dark magic in your system.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?!” 

“From the dagger. Don’t worry, I can syphon it out. It may hurt a little, but it’s the only way,” he stated, his tone sympathetic. 

Hermione swallowed and eventually nodded her acceptance. Draco held her wrist in his hand firmly as he worked his wand over her arm. He could tell that she was biting back a scream he knew she wanted to let out, but she held fast. A whimper did manage to escape, causing Draco to look up at her. “Almost done, I promise.” 

Hermione nodded yet again, closing her eyes, and Draco did his best to make sure he was quick with his work. 

“Okay,” he finally said. “All done.”

Her wound looked red and angry, but there was no trace of dark magic left. 

He watched as Hermione looked carefully at her arm before looking back up to him. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, _Accio_ -ing some more bandages before stowing his wand away. 

He started wrapping up her arm again, when her other hand rested on top of his, stilling his movements. 

“I mean it,” she said seriously, when he finally looked at her. “Thank you.”

He gave a nod and continued wrapping her up, confusion coursing through him as he wished she hadn’t moved her hand from his. 

* * *

“We need to get out of here and get to the vault,” Ron hissed. “Something important _must_ be in there!”

“I know Ron, but Hermione—”

“She’s better!” he insisted. 

Harry shook his head. “No, she’s not. She’s still weak and malnourished and healing from being tortured. She needs another week, if not more.”

Ron grumbled and ran a hand through his hair irritatedly. “I hate this. I hate that Malfoy basically has us prisoner here. It’s no better than at the manor—”

“ _What are you talking about_ ?” Harry asked incredulously. “This is loads better. In case you haven’t noticed, we have warm beds and _food_. Stop fucking complaining alright? I know you don’t like the bloke, but like it or not, he got us out of there.” 

Ron sighed irritably, his mood darkening as Malfoy walked into the kitchen, followed by Hermione. 

“You left him alone with her?!” he said to Harry. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Ron.” She motioned to his plate of food. “Is there some for me?”

Harry got up and walked over to the counter, where her plate was already piled with food, and set it in front of her. 

“Anything new, Malfoy?” Harry asked as he sat down again.

Draco shrugged, “Nothing that I’ve noticed. Bellatrix keeps ranting and raving about something in her vault. Any ideas what it could be?”

The three friends looked at each other before Harry shook his head. “We can’t say.”

Draco scoffed and crossed his arms. “Then how the hell am I supposed to help you if I don’t know what to help with?”

Harry groaned and looked to Hermione for assistance. 

“It’s a task from Dumbledore,” she said apologetically. “He said no one must know about it.” 

“Fine, alright,” Draco said with a sigh. “I should get going. Anything you need for when I return?”

“How about some wands?” Ron asked. “This way, we can at least defend ourselves if we _do_ get ambushed.”

“I’ve told you, it’s nearly impossible,” Draco said impatiently. “All confiscated wands are under lock and key, as well as guarded. It’s going to take time.” He looked to Potter. “How about food? Are you out of anything?”

“More tea and coffee, if you can. I think we’re okay on everything else,” he said with a shrug. “Hermione?”

“Oh, um… can you, by chance, keep an eye out for my beaded bag?” she asked. “It has a lot of our things in there. Extra clothes and the like.”

Draco noticed for the first time that she was wearing _his_ clothes and something inside of him tugged at his navel. He gave her a quick nod. “Sure, I’ll try.” 

* * *

When Draco landed back in his room, he was surprised when his Mother came running up to him. “There you are,” she whispered quickly. “Do you have more of those coins?”

“I... yes, a few,” he said, fishing the cloth out of his pocket and handing it to her. “Why? What’s going on?"

Narcissa shook her head. “You need to get out of here,” she whispered again, pulling something from inside her cloak. 

It was Granger’s beaded bag. 

“Where—”

“No time to explain, my dragon. You need to take this, you need to go to the safe house, and you need to _stay there_ ,” she insisted. 

Draco looked his mother in her eyes and saw how frightened she was. 

“Come with me,” he urged. 

She shook her head and gave him a small, sad smile. “I can’t, my love. I have to stay here.”

“But—”

“Draco, promise me. Promise me you’ll go and you’ll stay until I come fetch you,” she urged once more.

Draco shook his head. “Mother, no. I’m not leaving you here!” 

“Shh, Draco. They’re looking for you. They know you set them free,” she explained.

Draco paled. “How—”

“The guards. Bella used Legilimens on them and even though you wiped their memory, she obtained it. Now—” she shoved the beaded bag in his hands, then one of the coins in the other.

Before he could sputter another protest, she grabbed his wand and used it to set off the portkey. 

“Mother—”

“I love you, my dragon. I’ll come when I can.”

And with another pull from his navel, Draco was whisked away and landed with a thud in the middle of the safe house once again. 

* * *

Draco had secluded himself in one of the empty rooms upstairs for the better part of two days before Hermione began to worry. 

“He’s fine,” Ron said dismissively when she brought it up to the boys. “He’s just being dramatic.”

“Ron, his Mother could very well have been killed for what she did,” she admonished in a whisper. 

“Yeah, so? My parents will be killed on sight if any of _his_ lot found them—”

“They’re not _his_ lot, in case you’ve forgotten,” she corrected angrily, getting up from the couch.

“Where're you going?” Ron called after her.

“To make him something to eat.”

Ron rolled his eyes and looked to Harry, who had taken up looking at the Marauders Map in his spare time again. “ _You_ agree with me, right Harry?”

“No,” Harry stated, never taking his eyes off the map. 

Ron huffed out an indignant sigh. When Hermione came through the living room again, this time carrying a plate with a sandwich and crisps, Ron perked up. “Do you by chance—”

“Nope,” she said, as she climbed the stairs to the second level. 

There were three bedrooms on the top floor and Hermione went to the furthest one, where Draco had hidden himself away. 

She knocked tentatively. “Malfoy? Malfoy, are you there?”

There was a rustling sound on the other side, followed by some cursing. When he finally opened the door, Hermione gasped. 

He looked awful. 

His hair, which was usually styled nicely, was sticking up in all directions. He was wearing the same clothes from two days prior and there was also a smell coming from the room. Dark circles under his eyes meant that he hadn’t slept much and the stubble on his face seemed highly out of place on the usually well-groomed wizard.

“What do you want, Granger?” he slurred. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re drunk.”

Draco gave an indifferent shrug. “So what if I am?” 

“How did you even… you know what? Nevermind.” Hermione shoved the plate into his hands. “Here. Eat something. And for the love of Merlin, take a shower.” 

She turned on her heel and left him there, staring at the food in his hands, before closing the door once more. 

It was another day before he finally got himself together, realizing that if he really wanted to help end things, he needed to stop fucking around. He showered, shaved, changed his clothes, and brushed his hair. Only sleep and food would help with everything else.

He walked into the kitchen and when three pairs of eyes looked up at him, he gave a curt nod, muttered a “Morning,” and headed towards the coffee maker, pouring himself a mug. 

“So, you decided to join the living,” Harry commented goodnaturedly. 

“Shove off,” Draco said non-threateningly. He poured some milk and sugar into his coffee and took a sip before going over to the table and sitting down. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” 

“Who said you’re helping with any of this?” Ron asked. 

“As I’ve said before,” Draco drawled, trying to bite back his anger. “I want this over with as much as you. I know you’ve been on the hunt for something, but I don’t know what. Maybe another pair of eyes or brain power will help things along.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Plus, I’m stuck here now, too, so I might as well be useful.” 

“We don’t need your help—”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea—”

Harry and Ron had spoken at the same time, and both ended up giving each other annoyed looks. Finally, they turned to Hermione. 

“What?” she asked hesitantly.

“Since Ron and I are at an impasse, you get to decide if we let Malfoy in on our plans,” Harry stated. 

“Oh, um,” she looked around the room and bit her lip. Ron was slightly shaking his head; Harry was nodding his. Draco just looked at her, sipping his coffee and waiting for her answer. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt having him assist. He _does_ have a better insight on certain things, and might be able to help us get into her vault.”

Ron rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” He stood from the table and started to stalk out of the kitchen in a huff. 

“Oi, where are you going?” Harry called out. 

“Anywhere _he_ isn’t,” Ron snarled, leaving the kitchen. 

“Is he always such a prick?” Draco asked. 

Hermione sent a glare across the table at him. “He’s not a prick. He just.. stubborn,” she defended feebly. 

“Yeah, okay.” Draco quipped. “So, are you two going to explain what it is exactly you’re looking for?”

Harry and Hermione glanced at one another, before finally explaining everything to the blond Slytherin. 

* * *

Draco knew Potter was on an enormous mission, but this… he wasn’t expecting this. 

_Horcruxes_ ? What the fuck… no wonder _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ was the way he was. It actually explained a lot, now that he thought about it. 

Once he received all the information, they concluded that they would all think about plans on what to do next and went about their separate ways; or at least, as separate as one could when four people shared a house they couldn’t leave. 

Weasley had locked himself in his room. Potter was in the kitchen, looking at some sort of map. Granger was in the living room, looking at the bookshelf that contained a handful of books. 

“Anything good?” he asked, walking over to her. 

Hermione pursed her lips as she glanced at the different spines. “Some. Most of these seem to be by Muggle authors. Did your mother happen to say who the house used to belong to?”

Draco shook his head, glancing at the shelf next to Granger. “No. Just that she acquired it years ago to use as a safe house.”

“Hm,” Granger hummedh, pulling a book from the shelf and going over to the couch. 

Draco managed to find a book as well and settled himself into one of the armchairs. 

They sat in companionable silence while each read their book, until Draco heard the girl chuckle. 

“Something funny?” he asked, glancing over to her. 

“Huh? Oh, not really. I’m just reading this book on riddles and some of them are actually quite good,” she said, turning a page in her book.

“Riddles, huh?” Draco said, his interest piqued. “Why don’t you ask me one?”

She glanced up at him and smiled, “Okay.”

He waited as she read through at least three pages before he finally sighed, “Anytime, Granger.”

“Sorry, some of these are just too easy. I want to make sure you have to think on it,” she said, a slight tease to her voice. “Aha!. Here’s one. ‘I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?’”

Draco pondered in thought for a moment before he looked up and smirked, “An echo.”

Hermione gave him an impressed look, “Correct.”

“My turn,” he said, as he got up and sat on the other side of the couch. Hermione handed the book over to him and he skimmed the pages until he found one he thought would stump her.

“I don’t have eyes, but once I did see. Once, I had thoughts, but now I’m white and empty. What am I?”

He watched as Hermione furrowed her brows in thought and whispered the riddle to herself a few times. Finally, her eyes widened as she figured it out, “A skull.” 

“Impressive,” he said, handing the book back to her. “I could have sworn that one would have gotten you.” 

“You’ll soon find out, Malfoy, that I am quite hard to beat at the games of riddles.”

He gave her a challenging look. “Shall we have another round, then?”

Hermione nodded, opening the book once more. 

They played for nearly an hour, going back and forth with the book and by the end of the night, Draco couldn’t help but feel like this was the most normal thing in the world. 

* * *

Hermione woke with a start; covered in sweat and the sheets tangled around her legs. What startled her even more was the fact that Malfoy was towering over her in the dark, his hand on her shoulder. 

“Malfoy?” she whispered harshly, backing away from his touch automatically. “What are you doing in my room?”  
“You were having a nightmare,” he explained, taking a step away to offer her space. “I was trying to wake you. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?” he asked and she noted the worried frown he wore. 

Hermione nodded and started to untangle the sheets on her bed, “I’m alright, thanks.”

“I was about to make myself some chamomile tea,” he said, then quirked a brow. “Would you like some?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, please.”

She slipped out of her bed and followed him to the kitchen, where she sat at the table and watched as he set the kettle to boil.

“I wasn’t aware you knew how to work muggle appliances,” she said as he sat down opposite of her. 

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not like it’s hard. I’ve watched you and Potter do it, and it’s nearly the same as lighting a fire under a cauldron in potions.” 

“I guess that’s true,” she said, then she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Is it really two in the morning?”

Draco rubbed his face tiredly with his hands, “Yes.”

“Have you not slept yet?” She frowned at him.

“Been having trouble falling asleep,” he mumbled. “Hence the tea.” 

Hermione nodded and the two sat in silence until the kettle whistled. 

When he set the two mugs on the table and sat back down, he waited until they each took a sip of their hot beverage before clearing his throat. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Hermione looked at him curiously. “Oh? About what?”

He struggled with what he wanted to say, and Hermione seemed to understand and let him mull things over while she sipped her tea. 

“I’m trying to figure out the best way to say this, but I don’t think there is, except for that I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her. “I’m sorry for how I treated you all these years. I’m sorry I made fun of you. I’m sorry I called you names, especially — _that_ — name.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair and shuttered out a breath, looking away. “I’m sorry my aunt—”

“Draco,” Hermione said softly, placing one of her hands on top of his. “You don’t need to apologize for what she did.” 

He looked at her once more. “I feel like I should, though.”

She shook her head and squeezed his hand briefly. “You don’t. And as for everything else, well, I forgive you,” she said with a slight shrug. 

He gave her a confused look, “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” She nodded and gave him a small smile. 

* * *

The next time Hermione woke from a nightmare, Draco was there again. This time though, she couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked through her body and she clung to him as she tried to calm down. 

Draco sat on the edge of her bed, awkwardly patting her hair, until her sobs turned into hiccups and sniffles. 

When she finally calmed down, she slowly loosened her grip on him. “Sorry,” she mumbled. 

“It’s okay,” he said quietly back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione shook her head. “No.”

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Tea?”

She shook her head again, still not looking at him. 

“Alright, well, good night,” he stood to leave, but she grabbed his wrist so quickly and tightly that he was rooted to the spot. 

“Stay?” she asked, finally looking at him pleadingly. 

“Wouldn’t you rather Potter or Weasley?” he asked uncomfortably. 

“You’re already here,” she pointed out. “Please? Just for a little bit? I... I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

Draco sighed and nodded, slipping into the bed beside her. He laid on his back, resting his hands on his stomach, willing his heart to stop thundering in his chest. 

Hermione curled up against him, slinging an arm around his middle, as she groggily said, “Thank you.” 

Draco placed one hand on top of hers. “You’re welcome,” he murmured and soon drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?!” Ron bellowed from Hermione’s doorway. 

Draco and Hermione both shot up from the bed and looked around. 

“What’s going on? Why are you yelling? Is everything alright?” Hermione asked frantically.

“No, everything isn’t bloody alright!” Ron yelled. “Why is Malfoy in your bed?!”

“Stop yelling Weasley, nothing happened,” Draco said irritably, getting out of the offending furniture. “She had a nightmare and I came to check on her. She was upset, so I—”

“So you took advantage of her?!” Ron roared, walking into the room and straight toward the blond.

“No!” Hermione said, getting out of the bed quickly and placing herself between the two men. “He didn’t take advantage of me, Ron. I had a nightmare and didn’t want to be alone and I asked him to stay.”

“Why _him_ , Hermione?” Ron asked accusingly. “Why him when you could have come to me, or hell, even _Harry_?”

“Because he was there, Ronald,” she said, stomping her foot. “Draco was already downstairs when it happened and you and Harry were up in your own rooms.” 

“What about me?” Harry asked, walking into the room, taking a bite out of an apple.

“I found Malfoy in bed with Hermione,” Ron stated. 

Harry nearly choked on the food in his mouth, looking wide eyed between Hermione and Draco. 

Hermione huffled and crossed her arms while Draco rolled his eyes, and they said at the same time: 

“Nothing happened!” 

“All we did was sleep!” 

“Okay. Alright,” Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. 

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. “You believe him?” he asked, pointing to Malfoy.

“I believe _both_ of them, yes,” Harry said pointedly. 

Ron crossed his arms and grumbled, “Fine.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed at Malfoy. “I still don’t trust you.” He stalked out of the room in a snit, Harry following in his wake, shooting Hermione an apologetic look.

Hermione sighed once they left and turned to Draco. “Sorry about Ron, he’s—”

“A git?” Draco bit out. 

“Sometimes,” Hermione said, shrugging.

“Tell me something, Granger. Do you and Weasley have a thing going on?” Draco asked. “Because the way he acts towards you, is like he has some sort of claim on you.” 

“He’s only looking out for me,” she said defensively. “But no, there’s nothing going on.” 

Draco looked at her for a moment before he nodded once. “Alright. I’m going up to my room to change.” 

“Draco?” Hermione said as he neared the door. “Thank you… again.”

Draco glanced over his shoulder and nodded, “You’re welcome.” 

* * *

That evening, Draco, Harry, and Hermione talked at the dining table—Ron was upstairs somewhere, as usual, avoiding Malfoy.

“Alright, let’s see if I got this right,” Draco said, grabbing a spare piece of parchment and started writing a list. 

“There are a total of seven horcruxes. Potter took care of the diary in second year. Weasley took care of the locket and Dumbledore took care of the ring. And you’re sure that Ravenclaw’s diadem and Hufflepuff’s cup are two others?” the blond asked, raising a brow at the bespectacled man.

“Yes,” Harry nodded

“How do you know?” Draco asked.

Harry winced, “Sometimes when he’s really upset or angry, I can sort of… see through his eyes. He was worried about those items and I saw where he hid them.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open. “What? Are you serious, Potter? Has no one taught you Occlumency?!”

“Snape tried during fifth year,” Hermione answered, then she gave Harry a pointed glare. “And I’ve been telling him that he needs to close off his mind and break that connection for months now.” 

“Look, I _have_ been trying alright!” Harry said, clearly agitated as he ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the ends. “Snape did a piss-poor job of teaching me and then kicked me out when I finally broke through _his_ walls.”

Draco snorted, “Seriously, Potter? _You_ got through him?”

“Pretty sure it was a fluke, but yeah,” Harry said, shrugging. 

“Well, if you want, I can try and teach you,” Draco offered.

“You know Occlumency? Who taught you?” Hermione asked curiously.

Draco’s face darkened as he answered, “Bellatrix.”

Hermione visibly paled and rubbed her injured arm absently, “Oh.” 

“We’re getting off-topic,” Draco said, effectively changing the subject. “There’s the diary, the locket, the ring, the cup, and diadem. What else?”

“I’m pretty sure that snake is another,” Harry said. 

“Alright,” Draco said, writing down Nagini on the list. “That only makes six. What about the seventh?”

He noticed Hermione shift uncomfortably and open her mouth to speak, when Harry interjected. “The seventh is his final one—the one that’s currently in him. Once we destroy the others, it’s just him left, and then he’ll be gone for good.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Draco said, letting out a sigh. “So you need my help getting into Bellatrix’s vault to get the cup, correct?”

“If possible, yes,” Harry said. “Then we need to get to Hogwarts and get the diadem.”

Draco sat back in his chair and rubbed his stubbled chin in thought. “It’s been a while since I’ve been down to her vault. If she knows that what you’re looking for is still in there, then she would have probably requested extra protection as well.”

“Shit,” Harry mumbled. “Well, what can you tell us about what’s there so far?”

“Well, there’s a waterfall that will take away all enchantments. Then there’s the dragon—”

“Excuse me? Dragon?” Hermione asked, her eyes widening in shock. 

“Yes. Then, once you make it past him and get inside, almost everything has the Gemino and Flagrante curses placed on them.” 

“I’m afraid to ask...” Harry cringed. 

“Basically, anything you touch with those curses placed on them will burn and multiply. If you keep touching them, you’ll eventually get buried alive.”

“And I’m assuming a simple _Accio_ is useless?” Hermione surmised as she started taking her own notes.

“You’d be correct,” Draco nodded, impressed but not surprised. 

“So we’re looking at an enchantment-erasing waterfall, a dragon, two curses within the vault, and _Accio_ cannot be used,” she listed off. “Though I guess that’s a moot point considering we don’t have wands…”

“Anything else?” Harry asked hesitantly. 

“Like I said before, she probably added another security measure. Most likely a password or phrase to use with the Goblins that guard the vaults, so this way, even if someone was to polyjuice as her, the Goblins would know.” 

Harry groaned, “This seems impossible.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Hermione said. 

“What’s going on here?” Ron said from the kitchen doorway. 

“Good of you to join us, Weasley,” Draco said sarcastically. 

“We’ve just been talking about how to get into the vault,” Hermione supplied. 

“And you didn’t see fit to include me on this discussion?” Ron asked angrily, crossing his arms. 

“I knocked on your door and told you we’re meeting in the kitchen,” Harry said. “It’s not my fault you ignored me.” 

“I didn’t know you’d be talking strategies,” Ron mumbled, shuffling over to the empty seat at the table, making sure to avoid looking at Draco. “What do we have so far?” 

Hermione handed Ron her notes and he let out a low whistle once he was done reading. “Blimey.” He took a chance and glanced at Malfoy. “And you’d be able to help with this?”

“I might have a few ideas,” Draco said idly. 

* * *

Draco stoked the fire, urging the embers to stay alight just a little longer. 

It was nearly one in the morning, and he knew he should go to bed, but when the prospect of nightmares were in his future, well, no one would blame him for putting off sleeping until he could no longer keep his eyes open. 

If he were honest with himself, he was also staying awake until he knew Hermione wasn’t going to have her own nightmare. He noticed that the nights she had them, they always happened between one and two in the morning and since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he felt he might as well make sure she’d be alright.. 

He sat in one of the armchairs, picking up the book he had set down moments before, and began to read. 

His ears honed in on the muffled whimpering coming from the bedroom across the living room. He waited until he heard her again before he set the book down and quietly went over to her room, opening the door slowly. 

She was already tangled in her sheets and even though she was sleeping, she wore a deep frown. 

"Hermione?" he called from the doorway. When she didn't answer, he took a few more steps inside. 

Suddenly, she began to yell. "No! Stop! NO!!" 

Draco froze, unsure if she was talking to him or in her sleep. 

When she started crying and thrashing, yelling "No, no, no!" Draco ran to her side. 

"Granger, wake up," he urged, gently shaking her by the shoulders. 

"No! Stop! I won't tell you anything!" she screamed.

Draco felt the blood drain from his face. She was dreaming of his aunt, torturing her.

He shook harder, trying urgently to wake her. 

When her eyes finally flew open, she frantically looked around the room, until she spotted Draco. 

"Are you—"

But before he could finish asking about her well-being, she burst into tears. 

Without pausing to think, he quickly sat down on her bed and gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed. 

When she finally exhausted herself, she slowly loosened her grip on him and wiped her tears with the palm of her hand. 

"Thank you," she mumbled. 

"Would you like me to stay?" he asked. 

She nodded and moved over to give him space on the bed before wrapping her arms around his middle. 

They laid in silence for a few moments before Draco said. "Here's a riddle for you…. What’s black and white and red all over?”

Hermione sniffled and shook her head, “What?”

“A newspaper,” he said.

Hermione chuckled, causing Draco to smile as well. 

"Okay, my turn," she whispered, as she tried to recall one of the riddles from the book. 

He didn't know how long they played, but when the girl in his arms finally fell asleep again, with a contented sigh no less, Draco couldn't help but start to feel something close to affection towards the beautiful witch. 

* * *

Hermione sat with a fresh mug of tea, sitting near the fireplace, when something in the flames caught her eye. Thinking the lights were playing tricks on her, she went back to the book she had set down and began to read, only to be interrupted by a soft, feminin cough.

Glancing around the room, Hermione scrunched her face in confusion. 

“Excuse me,” came a voice and Hermione gasped as she saw a face in the flames. 

“Mrs…. Mrs. Malfoy?” Hermione whispered. 

Narcissa nodded, or at least, Hermione thought she did, “Yes. Is my son around? I need to speak with him. It’s rather urgent and I’m afraid I don’t have much time before my whereabouts are questioned.”

Hermoine nodded and stood up, quickly moving to the base of the stairs and called up, “Draco! Come down here, quick! Your mother is in the fireplace!”

Draco came barreling down the stairs and ran towards the living room fire, Hermione at his heels. 

“Mother?” he asked, kneeling in front of the fire. 

“Hello, my Dragon,” Narcissa said, a soft smile spreading across her face. “I’m sorry I can’t talk long, but I needed to pass along some information to you. Do you have a spare parchment and quill to write things down?”

“I’ll grab some,” Hermione offered, getting up to rush to her room. She squeezed Draco’s shoulder as she left and she heard him ask his mother quietly, “Are you alright? What happened after I left? Did they suspect you helped me?” 

Hermione quickly went to her room to the small desk she had there, and rummaged around until she found parchment and an everlasting quill she had stored away. Harry and Ron had entered the living room by the time she had returned and gave her curious looks, but she shook her head and put her finger to her lips before sitting back down next to Draco. 

“As you’ve probably already figured out, my sister has something hidden away in her vault,” Narcissa began as soon as she spotted Hermione. “I still don’t know what it is, but I went with her a few days ago to Gringotts and she set up an elaborate riddle of sorts to confirm that whenever she visits, it is really is her. The goblins are to ask her a series of questions, which have specific answers. Are you ready to write them down?”

Hermione handed Draco the parchment and quill and listened with rapt attention as Narcissa explained the answers in detail. 

When Draco was done, he looked at his mother curiously. “What exactly are we supposed to do with this information?” 

“Has Miss Granger not found the items I placed inside her beaded bag?” Narcissa questioned, this time looking at Hermione.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “I… no, I haven’t. I only took out the items we needed. I didn’t realize that there were things added.”

“Well, be sure to check. I think you’ll find some useful things inside,” Narcissa said with a knowing smirk, one that could rival Draco’s. 

Hermione dipped her chin, “I will. Thank you, for your help.”

Draco nodded next to her. “Yes, thank you, mother. When will you be—”

“I must go,” Narcissa said, glancing behind her quickly. “Bella is calling for me. Stay safe, my Dragon, and good luck.” 

With a small pop, Narcissa was gone and the whole room was silent except for the crackling of the wood from the flames. 

“So… are you going to check that beaded bag of yours, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, breaking the silence. 

Hermione gasped and ran to her room, grabbing her beaded bag before heading back to the living room and emptying the contents onto the coffee table.

Books, parchment, quills, blankets, random food, and many other things fell onto small table. 

"Let me guess; undetectable extension charm?" Draco asked with a raised brow. 

Hermione was too busy looking over the items to answer, so Harry nodded. "Yes. We used to have a tent and a ton more items, but they got left behind when…"

"When you got caught," Draco finished for him. 

"Draco, I think your mother may be my new favorite person," Hermione declared, holding up a bundle of wands. “They’re probably the ones that the Snatchers have taken from Muggleborns, but they should hopefully work for us. She also supplied various amounts of potions such as Pain-relieving, Dreamless Sleep, Dittany, even…" she gasped again as she read the label. "Polyjuice."

"But who would we be polyjuicing into?" Ron asked. "It's just us here unless we venture outside."

Hermione found another vial, this time with two strands of hair; one black and the other nearly white. 

“I think I have a guess...

* * *

As much as Ron argured, they decided to split up; Draco and Hermione would go to Gringotts while Harry and Ron went to Hogwarts. 

Draco rationalized that it didn’t make sense for all four of them try and sneak into the vault when two would just do fine. Harry was loath to agree, but admitted that he felt the same and they could hopefully locate two horcruxes at once. 

The wands Narcissa had given them seemed agreeable enough and each of them were able to pick a wand from the pile that worked for them. It felt good to use magic again, as it had been weeks since they were able to do proper magic. 

They planned for hours and when everyone had their parts memorized until they could recite it without thinking, they decided to call it a night and rest up. 

Tomorrow they would leave the sanctuary of their safehouse. 

Hermione knew she would need sleep, but couldn’t. She packed and repacked her beaded bag multiple times, making sure she knew exactly where everything was in case of emergency, and went over the plan in her mind repeatedly. 

“You should really get some rest, Granger. We have a long day tomorrow,” Draco said as he walked down the stairs. 

Hermione raised a brow., “I could say the same for you. Can’t sleep?”

Draco shook his head. 

“I’ll make us some tea,” she said, rising from the couch. 

As she passed Draco on the way to the kitchen, he reached out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. 

“I don’t want tea,” he said. 

Hermione noted that while his grip loosened, he had still yet to let go of her wrist.

“Would you like to sit?” she asked, motioning to the couch.

He shook his head and pulled her closer to him, “Not really.”

“Draco—” she said quietly before he silenced her with a kiss. 

His lips were soft on hers, and she felt herself melt into him at the tenderness he bestowed on her. When his tongue flicked out to taste her lips, she opened up for him, pressing herself closer. 

The kiss was slow, gradually building the longer they stood there. 

Much too soon, Draco pulled away but kept her in place with his hands on her hips and his forehead against hers. 

“What was that for?” she said softly, finally lifting her gaze to his. 

“I just… tomorrow, if things don’t go as planned, or I—”

She shushed him by placing a finger on his lips, “Don’t talk like that. Tomorrow, we’ll get the horcruxes, destroy them, and finish this war once and for all.”

“But _if_ something happens,” he pressed. “I just wanted to let you know that I… I care for you, Hermione. ” 

She smiled softly up at him and lifted onto her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips “I care for you too, Draco.”

* * *

When they moved to her bedroom, Draco wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside of her; to forget all that they needed to do in the next few hours. 

Hermione seemed to be of the same mind, as her leg had hitched over his hip and she kissed him deeply, running her fingers through his hair and her nails scraped his scalp, all while her core grinded against his painfully erect length. 

With quick work, they both managed to divest themselves of their clothing, their lips and hands touching anywhere and everywhere they could. 

The urgency to join their bodies thrummed in the air and when Draco finally plunged into her, they both let out sighs of pleasure. 

She was hot and wet and wonderful. 

He pumped into her, slowly at first, until she wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into his back, rocking her hips into his at a much faster pace. 

It didn’t take long for either, and with a grunt and a moan, they finished together. Draco crumpled on top of her, breathing in their sex and her scent and he thought that he if he _did_ die tomorrow, at least he would die knowing what true happiness felt like.

* * *

They talked late into the night, snuggled together in her bed for the last time. When her breathing evened out and she let out a sigh, Draco knew the witch in his arms was finally asleep. 

He had no idea what compelled him to kiss her earlier. He had every intention of making himself tea and going back to bed. But then he saw her, and he knew he didn’t want to leave this place without letting her know how he felt. 

It surprised even himself. Draco Malfoy, falling for a muggleborn Gryffindor. 

With a contented sigh that mirrored Hermione’s, he finally drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

Draco and Hermione had argued about who would polyjuice as who and Draco made a point of saying that he would be able to imitate Bellatrix more than Hermoine could, seeing as how he grew up around his Aunt. 

“All you’d have to do is stand there, looking regal as ever, while I do all the talking,” he told her, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

Reluctantly, she agreed, and after transforming their clothes into the proper attire for herself and Draco, they pair walked out of her room to join Harry and Ron. 

“Merlin, that’s bloody scary,” Ron said with a shiver. 

“Alright, everyone knows what to do, right?” Harry asked. “Malfoy, Hermione, get the cup. Ron and I will head to Hogwarts and find the Diadem.” 

“We know the plan, Potter,” Draco said in his aunt’s voice. 

“Alright well, good luck you two,” Harry said. 

“You too, Harry,” Hermione said, though her voice was now Narcissa Malfoys. She rushed forward and hugged her friends.

When Harry and Ron left, Draco and Hermione looked at each other, each wearing a frown. 

“I’d kiss you for luck, but I’m not kissing you looking like my mother,” Draco said, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t want your aunt kissing me, either.”

With their spines straight and hands clasped, they apparated to Knockturn Alley. 

* * *

“Wand?” the goblin guard, Bogrod, asked as Draco and Hermione presented themselves, asking to look inside Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. 

“That will not do,” Draco said in Bellatrix’s voice. “I’ve already told you that my wand won’t be proof enough to prove that it is me. Anyone can use polyjuice and either steal or replicate my wand.”

“But protocol—”

“Do you _DARE_ to defy me? The right hand to the Dark Lord himself?” he seethed.

Bogrod narrowed his eyes before finally nodding. “Very well.” He cleared his throat. “I shall make you supper. What meat will I be serving?”

“In the great North Sea lies a dead dog-fish, that is to be the roast meat.”

“And the spoon?”

“The rib of a whale will be my silver spoon.”

“And do you know what your wine glass will be made of?”

“A horse’s hoof,” Draco recited boredly, though his heart hammered in his chest, hoping that he said all the answers correctly. 

Bogrod nodded. “Very well, Mrs. Lestrange. If you will follow me.” 

* * *

They made their way down to the vault and when they came upon the waterfall, Draco readied his wand to stun Bogrod once he spotted their enhancements had lifted. 

With the goblin tied up and unconscious, Draco took Hermione’s hand and he led the way to the vault. 

He could feel Hermione’s grip tighten in his upon seeing the dragon, and he pulled her close and whispered. “It’ll be ok, he’s tied up and can’t hurt us when we use the clankers.”

“It’s not that,” she said, looking at the animal pitifully as Draco used the clanker to move around it.  
“I promise, once this is all over with, I’ll set him free.” 

Draco kissed her temple. “I have no doubt that you will.”

* * *

They did it.

They got the cup. 

Harry and Ron got the diadem. 

Nevilled killed the snake. 

Harry sacrificed himself and came back, _again_. 

The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice defeated Tom Riddle. 

There was cheering and hollering. Crying and sobbing. Laughing and wheezing. 

There were bodies everywhere; more than there should be. 

There were even more that were injured.

But they did it. 

Draco sat with his mother in the Great Hall while Hermione was over with the Weasley’s, mourning over Fred. His father had been killed in battle and even though he knew his mother was grief-stricken, she remained stoic. He knew she’d break later, but not here, in front of everyone else. As for him, he wasn’t quite sure what to think of his father's demise. He knew, in time, he’d eventually be able to think about it fully, but right now, he needed to be strong for his mother.

Movement caught his eye and he looked up to find Hermione, covered in dirt and blood and scrapes, stepping up to them. She smiled at him softly before looking at Narcissa. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Hermione said to the elder witch. “If you hadn’t given us the information we needed to get into your sister’s vault without causing alarm, we would have never been able to win this. I told Kingsley as such and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you don’t spend any time in Azkaban.” 

Draco felt his mother tremble, just slightly, before she reached out and squeezed Hermione’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered to her, then she smiled. “I can see why Draco likes you.”

A pretty blush ran across the witches face and she dipped her head down before looking over at Draco, “I quite like him, too.” 

His mother made a noncommittal sound before standing and saying something about getting a drink of water. 

Draco stood as well and walked slowly up to Hermione, making sure she was okay with him approaching her in the crowded hall. 

As if sensing his hesitancy, she closed the gap and wound her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her curls as his own arms wrapped around her tiny frame. 

They stood there, holding one another, until Hermione pulled back and smiled. 

He couldn’t stop the smile forming on his own lips if he tried.

“I have a riddle for you,” he said, smirking, rubbing away some dirt from her cheek with his thumb. 

Hermione smirked back. “A riddle you say? Well, let’s hear it.”

“What is mine, but only you can have?”

Hermione blushed and bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t know… what?”

Draco dipped his head and kissed her before answering, “My heart.” 

~The End~ 


End file.
